


Falter

by wocket



Category: Real Person Fiction
Genre: Canon Divergence, Dylric, Established Relationship, Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-17 01:55:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21046385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wocket/pseuds/wocket
Summary: Eric's parents threaten to punish him all the time. So why would he start taking their threats of military school seriously now?Eric's "mistakes" set off a chain of events that jeopardize Eric and Dylan's senior year together.





	Falter

It had taken Eric and Dylan some time to really get completely comfortable around one another once they started dating, but when they hit that point, there was no holding back. Behind closed doors, their relationship flourished, though it was a secret at school and to everyone around them.

Eric straddled Dylan with a smirk before diving in for a kiss. He swiped his tongue along Dylan’s lower lip, causing the taller boy’s mouth to open underneath his in the midst of an intense liplock. After not hanging out anywhere but school all week there was a sense of making up for lost time, a need to blow off steam after a long, hard week.

Dylan’s hands were warm on Eric’s hips, and after a minute or so, he untucked Eric’s shirt and slid his thumbs underneath, brushing his fingers gently against the skin.

Eric flipped them around so that Dylan’s lanky body was on top of his own.

Dylan pressed him into the covers and nosed at his jaw. Following Eric’s lead, he rucked Eric’s shirt up and reached for his belt buckle.

Immersed in each other, neither Eric nor Dylan heard the footsteps coming down the basement steps.

“Get off of him,” Eric’s mother screeched at Dylan. 

Dylan rolled off of Eric, gawking at Eric’s mom. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to smooth it down from where they’d been making out feverishly.

“Get out, faggot!” Eric’s mom howled at Dylan.

Dylan climbed off the bed and tried to grab his trenchcoat that was laid out over the La-Z-Boy. 

“Mom!” Eric yelled, embarrassed. 

Dylan gave up. His face was red and tears pinpricked his eyes. Leaving his stuff in Eric’s bedroom, he pushed past Kathy, running up the basement stairs.

“What the fuck,” Eric spewed, enraged. He could kill his mom for running Dylan off. 

His mom was either sad or angry - he couldn’t really tell but he saw the tears forming in the corners of her eyes. “You are grounded,” she gurgled through her tears.

“Go away,” he insisted, until his mom got the hint and left, probably to go tell his father what she saw. ”Fuck,” he hollered when the door closed. Eric punched the wall and strode across the room. He put his head in his hands. 

It was a Friday night, a full 48 hours before he’d have a chance to see Dylan at school. At this rate, he didn’t know what shape Dylan would be in by the time he saw him again (his boyfriend was probably crying in his car), but he had bigger things to worry about. His parents already thought he was psycho. Eric already knew the look of shame that would cover his dad’s face. Already knew the sound of sobs from his questioning mother wondering where she went wrong. 

Who knew what his mom was telling his dad at this very minute? He was not looking forward to the fucking trial his parents were about to hold upstairs in the living room. He’d be lucky if he were free again by the time he was old enough for college. His parents had threatened to send him to military school on a few prior occasions after what Eric considered to be over-exaggerated attitude problems and that thing last year with Brooks, but they wouldn’t really do that - would they?

Why didn’t Eric lock the door? That was a rookie mistake. 

“Fuck!” Eric said again hopelessly. 

*

The night before Eric was due to be un-grounded, he risked sneaking a phone call to Dylan. He waited until his parents were asleep to plug the telephone cord back into the wall, dialing his boyfriend’s cellphone number by heart.

Eric waited for the phone to ring, nerves jumping when he heard Dylan’s familiar voice on the other end of the line.

“Hello?”

“Dylan? It’s me.”

“_Hey_,” Dylan replied, a fondness in his voice that was impossible to miss, even over the phone line. “What’s up?”

“Bored to freakin’ death.”

“What are you doing?”

“Laying in bed, thinking about you,” Eric said, even though he was sitting in his computer chair trying to keep his voice quiet. “What about you?” Eric asked suggestively.

“Just messing around in _Quake_.”

Eric groaned. “My parents took away everything, the computer, the TV… I read an actual fucking book the other day. A _book_.” Dylan laughed and Eric continued talking. “Wish you could come over."

“I miss you.”

There’s silence on the line for a moment.

“Eric. I need to see you,” Dylan insisted.

“Come on, man, there’s only one more day until my parents are done grounding me.”

“_Please._”

Eric sighed. “Where are you at?”

“Home.”

“I’m coming to get you,” Eric told his best friend. “Can you stay the fuck still for half an hour and wait for me? Don’t go anywhere?”

“Yeah,” Dylan managed to whisper back.

“Hang on, V.”

Eric hung up the phone, determined to make a break for it.

Twenty minutes later, after digging through at least three of Wayne’s hiding spots in order to recover his car keys, he pulled up in Dylan’s long driveway. He rang the doorbell and Dylan’s mom answered the door.

“Dylan’s not feeling well, Eric,” Sue told him.

“I know. He knows I’m here,” Eric plead with her.

“Okay,” she sighed. Eric pushed past her and made his way up to Dylan’s room. He opened the door without knocking. Dylan was sitting on his bed, looking forlorn.

“Reb!” Dylan jumped up when he saw him, and threw his arms around Eric’s neck.

Eric hugged him back, squeezing hard. Two weeks felt like forever in high school. “You want to get out of here?” Eric asked. Might as well go big or go home.

Dylan and Eric ignored Sue’s protests as they clamored out of the house. Dylan’s parents might not be as harsh as Eric’s but they’d still lock him up if they found him in his room fooling around with anyone, especially a guy. 

The pair drove out to Deer Creek Canyon and parked the car in the empty lot. Eric waited for the song on the radio to end before he reached for his pack of cigarettes, sticking one between his lips and motioning outside. 

Dylan searched for his own pack, which had slipped in between the car seat and the door. After retrieving his cigarettes, he followed Eric into the fresh air. Eric tossed Dylan his Zippo, which Dylan used to light his cigarette. Dylan tucked the lighter back into Eric’s pocket after he was done with it and leaned back on the hood of the Prelude. 

“Dude. Come on,” Eric complained. “Get your ass off the car.”

“Make me,” Dylan countered. Dylan put up a fist, tucking his cigarette into the corner of his mouth so he could free up his other hand and take a fighting stance from his perch on top of the car. 

Eric lunged at him with open hands and Dylan flailed in a mock fight, giving up easily. It was more of an excuse to get their hands on each other than anything else.

Dylan hopped off the hood of the car, extricating himself from Eric’s arms, and ran ahead. 

“What the fuck?” Eric hollered.

“Come and get me,” Dylan taunted.

“Not fair, asshole,” Eric complained, stalking into the grass after him. “Get back here with your long-ass gazelle legs.”

Eric eventually caught up, joining Dylan on top of a flat rock.

“You don’t think your parents will care that you snuck out?” Dylan worried.

“What the fuck are they gonna do?” Eric asked, as if he was invincible. 

“Dunno,” Dylan answered, picking at a blade of grass. “I guess you’re right.”

“Plus, I wanted to see you.”

“Yeah,” Dylan agreed. “Today sucked. I hate everyone who goes to this stupid school. Except you,” he muttered.

“So what’d the jocks do this time?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Dylan sulked, so Eric didn’t pry. A few moments later, he decided he did want to talk after all. “I’m sick of people calling me a freak and a fucking fag. I’m not even out at school. They’re just doing it to be jerks,” he ranted.

“Ignore those motherfuckers,” he replied, although it was easier said than done.

“How am I supposed to ignore them when they say the same shit your parents do? I can’t stop thinking about it, Eric. I want to kill those assholes,” Dylan said with vitriol, picking up a rock and hurled it into the darkness. He was silent for a long time after that.

They sat in the grass for hours, talking about nothing of true import, merely content to be in each other’s presence again.

Dylan slipped his hand into Eric’s when they finally got back up and walked back to the car, an excuse to get close.

Eric grinned and used their linked hands to yank Dylan closer. He kissed him and shoved him toward the car.

“Get in the backseat.”

“What?”

“Just do it,” Eric insisted, making Dylan climb into the back of the car and following him inside. 

Gently, he took Dylan’s baseball cap off his head, setting it in the front seat. Eric ruffled Dylan’s messy hair, a gesture that comforted them both more than they each expected. 

“So you missed me, huh?” Dylan murmured, still feeling lonely.

Eric reached for Dylan’s wrists, taking them in his hands, running his thumb over the delicate blue veins on the underside of his wrist.

“Every day.”

Eric followed the statement with a kiss. Dylan’s mouth opened easily under his, welcoming the contact. 

Eric clamped down on his wrists, but Dylan worked his hands free, wrapping his arms around Eric’s shoulders. Dylan clung to Eric, his kiss conveying how much he’d missed him over the last few weeks. He couldn’t stop himself from leaning forward and kissing him again and again, stealing what he needed from his friend. 

Eventually they grew tired of kissing, limbs growing stiff from their awkward positions. They settled for sitting side by side in the backseat of the car, thighs pressed close.

Dylan was reluctant to let go completely, tracing abstract shapes on Eric’s jean shorts with his fingertips. They stayed like that all night, talking and leaning against one other when they ran out of words.

“I think I’m falling in love with you,” Eric said under his breath just before dawn.

Dylan lifted his head from where it was leaning against Eric’s, not totally sure of what he just heard. Eric doesn’t repeat it, though, doesn’t even act like he said anything, so Dylan leaned his head back where it was. 

“I love you too, Eric,” he whispered, although his words still felt loud in the car. 

Eric wrapped his arm tighter around Dylan’s shoulders and drew him nearer. They didn’t bother untangling their mess of limbs until the sun came up completely, rising above the mountains, the peachy sheen of dawn sky spreading above Littleton.

*

Eric knew he was in trouble the second he walked into the room. Both of his parents were seated at the kitchen table with grim looks on their faces. He paused in the doorway.

“Son, have a seat,” his father beckoned. 

Eric remained standing in the doorway. “What’s going on?”

Wayne pointed to an open chair. “Sit.” There was a large stack of papers sitting in front of him which he slid toward Eric.

Eric obeyed reluctantly, reviewing the unfamiliar paperwork. “What is this?” Eric asked. “Military school? Are you freaking serious?”

“We’ve been discussing this for sometime and your mother and I have agreed that after some of your recent behavior that now is the best time to proceed.”

“We haven’t been ‘discussing’ anything; what are you _talking_ about?” Eric’s anger rose visibly.

“Eric —”

“This is bullshit,” Eric interrupted. “You can’t do this.”

“We can and we’re going to, since you seem to think you can do whatever you like with no consequences. You need to accept responsibility for your actions.”

“Fuck you,” Eric spat, unconcerned of the consequences. He scooted his chair back so quickly that it made an uncomfortable screech as the wooden legs slid across the floor.

“You better watch your mouth, young man,” Wayne yelled.

Eric ran down to the basement without listening.

*

Eric gave his house a middle-finger salute as he stalked out the front door. Dylan’s BMW was idling in the driveway, the other young man no longer a welcome guest in the Harris household.

“My sentence is over,” Eric declared, taking his rightful place in the passenger seat. “Take me away on your noble steed, my knight.”

“I think you mixed your metaphors,” Dylan pointed out.

“What, are you my fucking English teacher? I swear to God, if you don’t pull out of my driveway right now…”

“Okay, okay. Where do you wanna go?”

“Anywhere but here.”

Their first stop was a Shell station, where Eric procured a bag of beef jerky and a Red Bull while Dylan filled up the tank. “They were out of Slim Jims,” Eric told Dylan, disappointed, tossing the beef jerky toward Dylan’s lap.

Dylan drove them to the nearby bowling alley and pulled into the empty lot, maneuvering the BMW underneath a busted light pole and putting the car in park. He pulled a flask filled with vodka from his pocket which he passed straight to Eric. Dylan was always prepared with liquor when they really needed it. His name was Vodka for a reason. 

“Oh, hell yeah, I love you,” Eric said without thinking, but he liked the way it made Dylan perk up. He took a few swigs and frowned at the taste, but passed the flask back without complaining. The two boys traded the silver flask back and forth, taking brooding swigs until they were sufficiently drunk.

“So… senior ditch day is next Friday,” Dylan reminded Eric. 

Eric sighed and leaned his head back. He didn’t want to broach the conversation he knew they had to have eventually. 

“I’ve got to tell you something.” Eric started. “It’s not good.”

“What’s up, man?”

Eric took a deep breath, unable to look at Dylan. “My parents are sending me to military school.”

Dylan didn’t say anything at first, his mind buzzing and replaying the words Eric just said. “What?”

“At the end of the month.”

“Today’s the 25th!”

“Yeah.”

“What the _fuck_?” Dylan crossed his arms. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“I knew you’d be mad —”

“Of course I’m fuckin’ mad,” Dylan said. “This sucks.”

Eric couldn’t argue. It did suck. The consequences for skipping out while being grounded had been more severe than Eric had ever anticipated, piling on top of the literal list of transgressions his father kept. He remembered his parents bringing up the military school thing again last January after he and Dylan had broken into that van, but he thought that was in the past. Eric passed the flask back to Dylan, who snatched it from his hands.

After a few more greedy sips, Dylan was being awfully quiet. Eric peered over at him.

“Are you crying?”

“Shut up,” Dylan told him, looking away in an attempt to hide his red-rimmed eyes.

“Oh, shit,” Eric realized. “Don’t cry, V. Everything’s going to be fine.”

“Do you really fucking believe that?”

Eric swallowed, unsure how to answer. He didn’t want to lie to Dylan. “I don’t know.”

*

The countdown to the end of the month is short and painful. 

Dylan is effectively banned from the Harris house, yet Eric snuck him in one occasion after the next. Dylan couldn’t stand the sight of everything disappearing from Eric’s room, though, and made them hang out at Dylan’s house instead - anywhere but Eric’s house.

“It’s not like you’re dead,” Dylan complained.

On the final night before Eric was due to ship off to military school, it was impossible for them to really _do_ anything. They were too distracted, too anxious. So Dylan parked his car down the street and snuck into Eric’s house again, where he climbed into bed with Eric and they hid behind his locked door.

Dylan and Eric faced each other, legs tangled on top the blankets.

Dylan left his palm facing up on the bed and Eric traced the lines on his palm with his fingertip, running his finger over Dylan’s knuckles before pressing their hands together and interlacing their fingers.

“If I don’t go to sleep it means tomorrow will never get here, right?” Dylan asked sadly.

Eric kissed his forehead in response. After so many years on the move, Eric had finally found something that felt like home in Dylan, and yet again that was being ripped away from him.

“What the fuck am I gonna do without you?” It was another one of Dylan’s questions for which Eric had no response. Eric held him instead as they wondered what would come next. Life at Columbine had been miserable (and honestly, still was, sometimes) before they’d found one another, before they realized the best thing about this dumb town was each other. 

“I never thought they were serious,” Eric admitted. “About the military school thing.”

“What did they say?”

“That I need ‘interests outside of our friendship’,” Eric quoted.

“Are you sure we’re okay down here?” Dylan asked, hesitant to let his guard down completely.

“Trust me,” Eric insisted. “After last time this basement is a fuckin’ fortress now. You’re safe.”

He relaxed a little and Eric tugged him closer. Their knees knocked together in the narrow bed. 

“I’m not going to tell you to wait for me or anything.”

“Fuck you. I love you,” Dylan insisted.

“I’m just saying —“

“You’re not doing me any favors by trying to take yourself out of my life,” Dylan interrupted. 

“Maybe it was a test.”

Dylan hugged Eric’s thin frame tighter. “A test of my patience, maybe. You can’t get rid of me.”

“I’m never gonna do that.”

“I’m going to call you every night,” Dylan promised.

“About that…” Eric said, stiffening. “You can’t. Not for the first six weeks.”

Dylan groaned. Six weeks to try and fix what diversion couldn’t manage in eleven months. “This nightmare gets worse every freakin’ minute.”

“I’m going to have to bust out. Like _The Great Escape_, or _Papillon_-style, more like it,” Eric grinned.

“Papi-who?” Dylan asked, scrunching up his face in confusion.

“_Papillon_. The book I read for Mrs. Caruther’s class,” Eric explained. “Papillon is a master criminal who’s sent to a penal colony —” Eric continued over Dylan’s snicker, “_shut up, Dylan_ \- a prison colony - in French Guiana. Papillon says he’s innocent, but the jury finds him guilty without any true physical evidence. At first all he could think about was how to get his revenge, but as the months pass by, he becomes convinced that he has to escape.”

“So does he?” Dylan asked impatiently. It’s their last night together before Eric is shipped off to military school, and Eric wanted to talk about _homework_.

“I’m not gonna ruin the ending. Read the fuckin’ book.”

“So what’s the moral of the story, or whatever?” Dylan groaned.

“You know what I didn’t put in my book report?” Eric waited a moment before he continued to speak, like he might not even tell Dylan what was on his mind. “It’s about kindness - that part is kind of a joke - but it’s really a love story, too.”

“Let me guess: some beautiful girl back home promises to wait for him as long as he’s away,” Dylan said, rolling his eyes.

Eric shook his head. “No. He meets this guy,” he continued, until he had Dylan’s attention. “Papillon has his back - and vice versa - through every single shitty thing in prison. And there’s a lot, trust me.”

“It doesn’t sound very romantic.”

“They’d be dead without each other.”

Dylan looked Eric in the eye. “I’ll follow you to hell,” he promised. They’re not just words; it was a bond.

Eric slid his hand into Dylan’s hair and drew him closer for a kiss.

They both found it impossible to sleep that night, on edge about facing the inevitable future, creeping closer and closer all evening until they were wound together so completely it would take real effort to separate themselves. 

Morning arrived sooner than they hoped. The sun rose steadily outside, signaling their last few moments together. Eric kissed Dylan one more time.

Eric’s radio alarm clock blared though there was no need for it.

Eric put his hand on Dylan’s chest. “I’m sorry, V, but you should go. My parents will freak if you’re still here.”

“Let them,” Dylan argued. “Don’t unlock the door. I want to stay until they drag you away from me. What else can they do?”

“I don’t want to cause a scene,” Eric said quietly, his voice serious.

“_You_?! Are you kidding?”

“They’re good parents, for the most part. Being disrespectful like that will just be worse for me in the long run.”

“Eric, are you fucking serious right now?” Dylan sat up quickly, not able to believe what he was hearing.

“Dylan, come here,” Eric said. This was everything he wanted to avoid.

“No, I’ll go,” Dylan said, his eyes burning. “I guess they got what they wanted.”

Eric chased after Dylan and grabbed his wrist. “Not like this. Come on.”

Dylan allowed Eric to drag him back to the bed, where he made him sit on the edge. Eric stood in between his knees and tugged Dylan’s head to his chest. 

“What do you want?” Eric asked, mouthing the words against Dylan’s hair. “You want me to fight him? You want me chain myself to the basement forever? My dad will bust down the door just to kick my ass.” 

Eric’s willingness to take action seemed to placate Dylan, or at least calm him down enough to get him to think twice. Dylan settled in Eric’s arms. “No,” he mumbled reluctantly into Eric’s shirt.

“I’d do anything for you, V,” Eric continued, wondering if Dylan knew how deeply he meant it. 

There were a few loud thumps from upstairs that caused Eric to sigh. He lifted his head to listen for noise from his parents. “That must be my dad. I think I heard the fridge.”

“So,” Dylan began, fingers tucked into Eric’s belt loops. “This is it.”

“Only for now.” Eric grabbed his pack of Kamel Reds off the top of his dresser and put them in Dylan’s hand. “Here.”

“You’re giving me your cigarettes? Is this another prison love story thing?” Dylan scoffed.

Eric blushed but Dylan tucked them into his pocket without a second thought.

“Come on,” Eric beckoned, about to head for the stairs. “I’ll cause a distraction so you can sneak out.”

“Hey —” Dylan stopped him from pulling away. His face was sad, already lonely. “You forgot something, asshole.” 

Eric took Dylan’s angular jaw between his hands and kissed him, slow and deep, a last kiss that would have to last them both much longer than they liked. 

*

It wasn’t until a couple of weeks later that Dylan decided to open up Eric’s pack of Kamel Reds, desperate for a cigarette and too lazy to stop by King Soopers. There were still a few smokes inside, but there was something else, too - a note, folded up and tucked into the pack with the cigarettes.

Dylan unfolded the paper, and a smaller piece of notebook paper fell out. He recognized it as a note he’d passed to Eric in school what felt like ages ago. There was a little heart with the letter R inside it for Reb and the words “you’re my everything” in Dylan’s messy handwriting.

Dylan read Eric’s note on the other piece of paper.

_Dylan —  
So you finally got bored and desperate for a smoke and looked in here, huh? I kept this in my wallet for a long time (bet you didn’t expect that) but I thought you’d like it, you sentimental fuck. _

_I’m yours until you get sick of me… which I hope is not until we die._

_REB_

Beneath his signature, Eric had drawn a picture of Dylan’s BMW beneath a setting sun. There was a little arrow pointing to the stick figures in the car labeled “us”.

_Who was Eric calling sentimental?_ For the first time since the day Eric left, Dylan smiled.


End file.
